A vision of mother floated above her… blurred, smiling but unmovingl… her head hurt as Revathi slowly opened her eyes. She saw amma’s (mother) picture still hanging on the wall where she last remembered it. And MS’ Subbalakshmi’s rich melodious voice continued to drone on….

Her vagina felt sore like a fist had been pushed in ….yes … dear Balan had told her and shown her pics of a good fist fuck. No thank you – if he was going to spend time “loosening her up” as he called it, she wasn’t interested. Anyway they were divorced now …. hell with him.

Her eyes wandered over to the clock on the wall… my god – she had slept for fifteen minutes.. she tried sitting up. And that is when it all came flooding back to her… her grinding the cucumber for fun, the walk to the kitchen, the fall and the punch of…

and oh my god! that little green monster was still stuck in her! god! No wonder she felt full, satisfied and sore – like a long open wound in her had been sealed with finality!

Determined not to slip again, she slowly got on all fours and …with the green cucumber twisting and turning inside her…. crawled across the floor – making her even more wet and horny. squish…chik…squish…chik….the sounds were like that made by a vinyl panty and skirt! Balan had got her do that once. He had thought it was sexy! Idiot!

She reached across the hallway to a dry patch, and stood up, her legs and buttocks forced apart by the stubby solid mass wedged deep insider her bruised cunt.

She felt brave, like a warrior…. maybe this is how the sardar (Sikh) taxi drivers who intimidated her felt all the time …maybe this is what penis envy was all about!

Now how the hell was she going to get this thing out?

She had to calm down and think. Take stock of the situation and work things out … she could try squatting… Indian style… and maybe …it would just fall out… worth a try…

She stood with feet a little apart and did a sudden forceful downward squat … her butt racing in an arc towards her heels… the cucumber made first contact and slammed hard against her insides….and again that dull pain – broad, firm and at the very center of her being…! oh what a curse!

She manage to crawl and get on to her bed. Reaching over to the bedside table, she retrieved the mirror Balan’s mother had given her as a wedding gift. Lying on her back, she spread her legs wide and lowered the mirror to where she could took a good look!

The cucumber’s tip, stuck out of her cunt, like a green tortoise head coming out its dark shell. She looked at it – it looked back at her. She looked at it again.. and it looked back … again….

By now- she was in a panic and beginning to cry! Not so because of her predicament… but because of the one person in the whole world she knew she would have to call, the one person who was uniquely gifted and equipped to handle a situation like this.

Balan!

Damn his corrupt soul – that boy was he going to have a field day with this! Damn him! And with that she crawled on all fours to the living room, reached for the cell phone, sat on the edge of the sofa with her ‘penis’ sticking out and dialed Balan’s number!

………………………

Balan had had a good life all through – which to him meant – booze, women and the means by which to have sex with them – anytime, anyway, anywhere and best of all naughty, unexpected, consensual sex that relied on the element of surprise. And being a manager at a five star hotel in Gurgaon, gave him a steady supply of all of the above – and more.

Although, life had not been good to him lately. Hotels were changing, the new generation was more professional and women nowadays did not like being played with in the same way they did in the 80’s. Indian women today were more self assured and just about everyone of them had a boyfriend or two, not like the old days where he was the one act in town.

What was new though, and something he was still figuring – were the number of lesbians who were joining his staff. Don’t get him wrong, while he was women-oriented as he put it, he just about respected everyone else’s sexual choice between any combination of consenting adults.

So at first when he heard Shashwati (“Shash”), the salad chef, was a ‘lesbo’ (lesbian) he had had angled for some three way action between her and her purported girlfriend, a stunning model. But this was like no Swedish lesbian movie he had seen (which usually ended up with a black guy joining the action) ……… for neither did Shash open up to him, nor it turned out she was actually available. She actually loved this other girl. What an idea! No wonder all her salads ended up looking like breasts and pussies… he got a hard on just walking past the salad counter!

The phone rang and he could scarce believe the name displayed … he let it ring a few times! Revath, she! the she-goddess of southern womanhood, the patron saint of all that was chaste, Sister Revathi, the Nunamma (“nun mother”) …. she … the pure, the chaste would condescend to call him!

“Hello…Rave!” he muttered with all the hospitality training he could bring to bear. He could scarce recognize the voice that replied at the other end… that of someone who seemed familiar, yet scared, and unsure… worse yet… a Revathi who said “Balan… I need your help…don’t laugh, I am stuck, I mean… it is stuck!”.

And with that Revathi described incoherently, how her faithfully following a naturopath’s prescription for UTI had left her with this…this cucumber wedged deep insider her “private area” as she put it. She ended again with “Balan … I need your help – fast! you work 5 minutes away from our home… please come now!”.

He did not know whether to smile or cry… or laugh. Was this funny – especially after she had made such a fuss when he had shocked her by suddenly inserting a pickling cucumber in her unsuspecting cunt! Anyway … all that was in the past! For sure this confused frustrated girl was a poor liar!

Balan may have been a rogue, but he was definitely a gentleman of the hour. Without hesitation he picked up the phone and summoned Shash to his office in a tone at once commanding, yet gentle – she had never heard him use it before.

She rushed in to his office, the same damn office where he had tried making advances which she had summarily rebuffed. “Shash… I have a friend, who is in trouble, and she needs your help. And needs it now… get your salad preparation stuff and come to the back entrance… I’ll pick you up there. Please yaar (friend) – trust me… she really needs your help!”

She looked at him in the eye …carefully… something told her this was real… and besides the friend was a she, she was helping her kind. She left to get her salad set, thinking it was some “curry in a hurry” for a wedding party!

Revathi heard the furious knocking on the door, and stepping her way carefully across the room, opened the kundis ( tower bolts ) and let Balan in… followed by a woman… who looked like a nurse, with a white cap and gown. “This is Shash” said Balan. “Thank god!” thought Revathi, “the man had gained some common sense after all these years! So unlike him” .

“Revathi – we better examine you right away, please lie down on the table” said Balan. Revathi complied uncharacteristically… slowly getting on the chair….then laying on the table face up, sliding her buttocks backwards….awaiting the inevitable loss of decency. Balan was almost gentle with her when he suggested he raise the kaftan and slowly gathered it at her midriff.

Revathi could swear she saw a glint in the nurse’s eye as she spread her legs wide and apart. They looked at the little green monster inside Revathi… and it looked back at them. She could swear Shash looked hungry.

Shash and Balan burst out laughing… and Revathi burst out crying! All this was too much for her.“Get a hold of yourself” shouted Shash and with that she let loose a sharp stinging slap on her right buttock! “We need to scoop some out, and then ease you up…so it will slide out. I need you to be steady and not move. Balan – we better hold her down, one move and it could hurt, do you have anything to keep her steady while I work on this?”

Balan raced to the bedroom, stood up on the bed and reached on the shelves built into the wall. If memory served him right, that wire the carpenters had left must still be there! Bingo! He was right .. and grabbing the twisted red and white electric cord, he raced back.

If they did not move fast enough… well they had to… else Revathi could not pee! Every second mattered!

“Revathi dear” Balan looked at her lovingly. “Shash needs to operate on the cucumber, and take pieces out so it will slide out. So I will need to tie you down so you don’t make a move while she is working, ok?”

She looked back at him and nodded… trust written all over her doleful eyes.
Balan expertly fashioned some knots he had learned while studying Kinbaku, the art of Japanese bondage. In no time at all, electric cord criss-crossed Revathi’s breasts and hands and tightly held them to the legs of the table. He then stretched her legs apart gently, till she felt they could stretch no more… and tied them her ankles and thighs to the other two legs of the table.

He stepped back to look at his work… Shash looked at him with new found admiration. “We need to get her stimulated Balan, you both were married were you not? She asked? Balan… please get her aroused. I need her cunt all nice and wet so I can slide it out!”.

“Oh no – you should have told me first Shash dear, she has her kaftan on and the one place that Rave is sensitive is her nipples. I am just going to tear the Kaftan (nightgown) off!” And sooner than Shash could protest, Balan had reached for a pair of scissors on the side table and started tearing her lovely ‘single woman’ kaftan to shreds. The remaining pieces he deftly slid out from under the electric cord that now tightly criss-crossed across her breasts.

He loudly proclaimed to no one in particular – “Shash – if there is one thing that turns Rave on it is getting rough with here breasts! ….right Rave?” and without waiting for a response, he first started nibbling on her right nipple – it was all puckered up under the stress.

Revathi moaned and tried to move her butt, but the cords held steady.

Shash place a thumb on Rave’s clitoris slowly rubbing it. “Steady, don’t move” she commanded Revathi and picked up the small cutting knife she used to slice ginger into wafer thin slices. This was not going to be easy…it would test her skills. With that she slowly sliced the rounded part of the cucumber that was sticking out, taking care to avoid the stretched labia.

The vagina was still dry… so she pinched the clit once more.. hard…Revathi screamed and then bit her tongue and then stayed silent.

By now Balan was busy tugging at Rave’s defenseless breasts with his teeth…her breast stretched way up lost in his mouth. Then he slowly let them slide out, flowing through tightly clenched teeth, biting deeper at the nipple and letting it stretch its way out … all the while mercilessly twirling the nipple on the other breast between thumb and forefinger. He loved it – and Rave moaned. Then he switched over ….gorging the second breast fully and slowly letting it grind its way out of his mouth.

Meanwhile, with some deft cutting, Shash had gotten the cucumber to have a flat face now, so much for that. She then used a plastic coring knife and slowly went to work, scooping out the insides of the cucumber…. working her way in bit by patient bit…taking care to leave a thick wall so Revathi would not get hurt. She could see the labia relax a little, as the hollowed out tip of the cucumber folded in a bit. She kept scraping away for a few centimeters more till she felt it was no longer safe to do so.

Then with one finger inside the hollowed part of the cucumber and two on the outside, she snapped the cucumber lip in two. Revathi screamed … her labia could take no more of this torture… god what had she done to deserve this! Shash triumphantly pulled out a piece of cucumber and held it up. She quickly proceeded to snap some more pieces from inside, as Revathi moaned – and came again. and again.

Balan kept working her breasts, while Shash kept slowly snapping pieces of cucumber and pulling them out. And then Revathi came once more… moaning loudly, drenching Shash’s hands. Balan looked up in surprise, mouth agape – this was Rave he had never known.

Bu that was as far as they could go. The rest of the cucumber loosened up and slipped further inward! Shash realized the limits of her training and her technique. Damn it! …none of her catering training at Aurangabad had prepared her for this! For it was soon becoming obvious, that the rest of that little green fiend remain stuck inside with no easy grip to pull it out! “Fuck” Shash exclaimed loudly, “fuck this damn cucumber!”

And just then there was a gentle knock on the front door… Balan, Shash and Revathi all froze, their heads turned towards the door. “Hello please to come” said a timid voice and with that a trim, short, older gentleman, with thick glasses pushed the door open and stepped right in… into the unholy scene!

It was Dr. Krishnan! See …in their rush to attend to Revathi, Balan and Shash had forgotten to bolt the door close.

The good doctor stood there…mouth moving like a goldfish. Nothing, nothing could possibly explain the vile scene before him. Not even MSSubbalakshmi’s, god bless her soul, rich melodious could begin to attempt to explain this …!

Revathi had always been one tough woman. Independent minded, strong willed, and a challenge for any man who dared say hello. She was 45, had been married once but had since been divorced – he, Balan, had neither been loyal nor dutiful.

Her parents had never approved of him and once she figured out he was into kinky sex of every kind, she never wanted to be with him again. Having oral sex was one thing, but subjecting her backside to the whims of odd shaped pieces of adrak (ginger) was quite something else… “figging”, he had called it and said it was very popular in Britain.

Then there were other things… like his insistence she wear a sari and blouse without any bra or panty – after a loud argument he let her wear the petticoat when she showed how it held up her sari. With just a nice woolen shawl for cover over her bra-less blouse and sari, they went to dinner parties and dances.

Once, Santokh Singh, her husband’s colleague had brushed against her buttocks in the dance floor – and she could swear he noticed the absence of panty lines….

Yes, Balan had been a bad man and unfaithful, but he knew how make her feel good, guilty and godless… Of course no man since had ever dare intrude her dry un-lubricated existence. Neither had she made any advances, nor did she feel the need to. She had this sneaky suspicion that her South Indian diet did more for her intellect than for her libido… perhaps she should try eating more chapatis. parathas and naans!

The last few weeks though were aggravating. Her urinary tract infection (UTI) had re-surfaced. The Delhi heat was doing nothing to make it easier. The A/C (air conditioner) she had kept since her married days was falling apart and no matter how much cold water, ice cubes and sandal wood paste she applied her vagina and urethra burned with a fire of their own. She squirmed the whole day in the office and felt a deep urge rub herself against the corner of the table, but dared not.

She had even gone to Dr. Gupta, her doctor of many years. As always he was dismissive and uninterested, asking her to stand near his chair, raise her sari and pull her panties down as he thrust his fingers in for an exam. He gave her some antibiotics and a cream. Nothing worked, it still burned and Dr. Gupta was still uninterested.

And then she remembered Balan and the cucumber. It was wrong and she hated doing that to a cucumber….but it had felt cool and where was the harm… besides it was all vegetarian.

It had been a quiet Saturday afternoon and the maid was noisily washing clothes in the bathroom when Balan approached her at the lunch table. He showed her a cucumber and calmly asked her… “inside you?” and winked. Before she could recover from the shock, the audacity of the very suggestion, he had raised her saree and rudely shoved in an unsuspecting fruit into her unsuspecting cunt.

And then for what seemed like hours he had played with the cucumber inside her – right there over the dining table, right next to all the carefully home-prepared food which was getting cold! And the maid was still working in the back of the house.

Though it had hurt, as the rough warty outside of the pickling cucumber rubbed against her tender pussy, it left her feeling full, satisfied, rigorously explored and hungry for more. Then just when she was just about to come, he pulled it out, ignoring her completely. He proceeded to carefully peel the cucumber, it as she lay agonizing, and then inserted it again – this time gently and lovingly.

It had felt cool, magical and utterly sinful – she climaxed again… right there in the dining room with the food getting cold. That was when she realized for the first time, where the phrase ‘cool as a cucumber’ came from… but no matter what she could not get over it – somehow it seemed wrong – even though it felt good. She even felt sorry for the cucumber…

Anyway, if she were to do it now no one would know, no one would care and no one would guess… and while mother may not have approved, she was long gone, peacefully to heaven… bless her pure soul. There was a problem though. The rough pickling cucumber Balan had used was small, making up in spirit what it lacked in style. However it was not available this part of town and she would have to make do with the guy around the corner = the telawala! (vegetable cart seller)

When she first approached him, the telawala had looked at her, almost slyly and said … pick any you like maam? whatever your pasand (“fancy”).

And he turrned around, spat on the ground, looked up again – and leered at her. She knew, he knew, what she knew she did not want him to know.

She selected two cucumbers, almost randomly, feigning disinterest, until her hand came to rest on a third – it seemed long yet stubby and at first glance, too suggestive a shape. It even had a yellow cleft at one end – from some old injury – the tip of a fruity phallus. She picked it up, wrapping her right hand around it almost as if

She mumbled something about how everything was getting expensive, and without meeting his eye handed him a hundred rupee and started walking away. “your change madam…. your change” he yelled after her. She knew, he somehow knew….and without undue haste, yet a little bit of hurry, she fled the short distance home. Rushing in, she dropped the bag, turned around and locked the kundi (tower bolts) close… now safe, in the fortress like confines of her home.

When laid on the bright orange table mat from Cottage Emporium, the three cucumbers looked innocent, almost coy.

Except the one in the center with a cleft – it seemed almost to wink at her, cock its head at a jaunty angle and say… fuck me baby, fuck with me.

She could wait no longer.

She stripped her sweaty clothes of and stood legs apart in front of the A/C, the cool air blasting her vagina. She put on the kaftan (gown), the one with the spaghetti straps, she had got stitched a month after her divorce.

She could swear the tailor had taken extra interest in her measurements that time, as she stood in the dark of his little store. And she had let him – holding her bra cups against her breasts, she slid the straps off so he could measure things right – after all she was paying good money for the kaftan and - she was newly single again. She made sure the hems stopped at mid-thigh, right below those vaccination marks she had gotten as a kid. She hated those marks – made her feel ugly, even though her ex could never quit pinching, biting and kneading her there.

She reached across the dress and clicked Play. Her favorite MS Subbalakshmi (MS to her fans) CD played in the background, the rich golden voice calming her down, easing her senses.

She held her small green friend in one hand and rubbed it with coconut oil, the one that came in those weird blue plastic bottles with the lids so hard to open. Anytime she squeezed its curved ends…. the cucumber slithered back and forth, in her hands, alive, ready to do her bidding.

Using a vegetable peeler her sister had got her from Singapore, she peeled the skin off the naughty end of the cucumber – the one with the cleft. Now it really did look like a green penis.

Standing straight up, she raised the kaftan and placed one leg on the study chair. Hooking her right forefinger she pulled her pink panties aside just enough to squirt some cool coconut oil straight on her vagina. It worked like magic, she could feel it – her dry scorched pubic hair glistened a shiny glossy black, the wrinkled folds of her long neglected vagina now feeling all relaxed and juicy.

Oil dripped down the thigh, running all the way down her leg, forming a little pool on the mosaic floor. She would clean it up later…. for now… she was happy nestling the cool, shaved end of the cucumber against her oily vagina.

It had been a long time, since she had felt anything push against her pussy – and that is when she realized it was big, too big – the cucumber that is. She had lost all sense of size over the years, or perhaps it was lack of use – no matter which, her vagina seemed unequal to the task of swallowing a humble cucumber.

Surprised and disappointed, Revati retreated to what she knew best – her vast fund of GK (general knowledge), gathered over many a summer afternoon in middle class Mylapore. She had been preparing very hard for, and “hoping against hope” she would get selected for the Bournvita Quiz contest. She never did, instead that stupid Sindhi girl had been shortlisted – they looked just like Punju women but were lot more hairy and more studious. Anyway – her fund of GK had told her two things – that pythons could open their mouths and swallow whole deer and that the female vagina could expand to issue forth one, two or even more healthy babies, let alone a solitary elongated fruit (yes cucumbers were fruit!)

The cucumber Balan had used years ago had been short and warty – pickling cucumbers he called them – but go get those you had to go to the other market a few kilometers away. The tehlawala (vegetable cart seller) around the corner only carried these big ones – che! if she was only back in RK Puram!

The fat green mass felt cool and for a moment and the burning due to her UTI seemed to fade into the background. And she was in love with this special one… almost cock like, erect, confident yet playful and mischievous. There was no way she was going to step down to his smaller cousins.

Never mind… she would only play with him on the outside – and determined woman that she was, she proceeded to slide, prod, rotate and tease her clitoris and labia – sometime rough and fast so the hairs bit into her soft skin, and sometimes steady nice and slow, so the hairs could slide out again.

Images of Mr. Dandapani – her physics teacher from school floated in front of her head. He was strict yet gentle, and did not hestitate to spank hard on the backsides of student’s who kept repeating their mistakes – especially that dumb good looking punju girl – Thithlee Bajaj. And Dandapani had those nice bright eyes and those hairy ears!

mmmm…. fitch! vish! fitch vish….the rhythm of the oiled cucumber kept picking up pace as she let its stubby rounded extremity slide up and down her vagina, her labia lazily caressing it on either side.

Soon Dandapani faded, and in came visions of a shirtless Akshay Kumar…Mother would not approve a North Indian boy but it was ok this once. Revathi was on a roll now, breaking all taboos, and masturbating to a Bollywood film star did not seem all that risky a thing to do. At most it might lead her fingers astray.

fitch! vish! fitch vish fitch! vish! fitch vish…. the rhythm continued to pick pace. and her body moved… tight chubby thighs slapping in unison with the right hand, firmly holding the gyrating cucumber. Her panty seams occasionally got caught, tugged and released in the relentless movement, naughtily biting into her labia…

and then she started coming…. the first hints of an orgasm, searching and hungry, waves of contractions and releases unleashed themselves, as her vagina showered years and years of liquid love on her green suitor…..

Revathi was never used to screaming loudly, or even moaning in passion – she often just breathed heavily, like an old pair of bellows flagging a stump of red hot iron…. She had once read, of course as part of acquiring GK, that the human female, unique among all primate females, experience sexual orgasm – oh why was she like this!

And this time was no different… she breathed heavily….

Smooth, stubby and oily thought it was, the cucumber had left her normally deject clitoris sitting taut and shiny.…like one of those gaudy red buttons she bough at Moore Market (Madras) years and years ago before it burned down….

She sighed to the heavens…. biting her lip and with a loud gasp, arched back. as the final joy sent shivers down her spine…… then she flopped forward in guilt, relief and release… as the shameful moment was painfully over.

….MS Subbalakshmi droned on… what a golden voice, she hoped the gods had not noticed.

The gods indeed had noticed, as Revathi felt the world around her give way, spinning in slow motion…. her right leg slipping forward, giving way… her left leg slipping outwards ….the cucumber held firmly in her hand now rested against the solid wood edge of the chair, as if awaiting the inevitable.

She succumbed the cumulative effect of coconut oil and vaginal juices on a smooth mosaic floor… who would have guessed..

Gravity ruled……… as her fast descending vagina impaled itself on the humble cucumber…… its green mass plunging in quietly and forcefully, dragging the crotch area and the cheap elastic of her panties with it…in one smooth punch.……. a dull pain enveloped her lower stomach as the cucumber firmly and fully sunk in, minimized only by the burning sensation where the panty lining had been pulled in….

She screamed in ecstasy and pain, falling on her back, feet spread wide apart, the cucumber protruding like a grafted penis on some ancient god! She twisted and lay there on the floor, slowly folding herself into a foetal position, feeling the full bulge of the cucumber inside her… her panty pulled down and uncomfortably tight around her waist…Where the hell was that idiot Balan when she needed him!!!%^%^%$##@##

For the first time in her life… Revathi felt fucked! fully, wholly and royally fucked! And was loving every painful, twisted burning minute of it.

Revathi moaned softly once and then loudly… not in anguish or distress… but in the full pink health of a woman whose hunger had finally been sated. The animal inside her was awake and needed more…

She held the cucumber with both hands and tried pulling out… it hurt terribly, her labia stretched around the fruit like foreskin. With nothing left to lose she yanked the green stump from side to side, up and down, groaning in agony at the havoc being wreaked inside her pussy… her full buttocks slipping and sliding on the floor… Balan should have been here… he would have known what to do…. but never mind… she knew what she liked and she was gonna do it!

She continued to gyrate the cucumber like an Aattu Kal (grindstone used in South India) till her insides felt like pulp… and then she came again… moaning loudly…. oh the shame! MS droned on …

Rolling to her side Revati slowly stood up…. and took stock of the situation. How was she going to get the cucumber out? Heaven’s what if it remained stuck there till Monday, and she had to work all the day with it inside her saree! And with that she headed towards the kitchen….

When for the second time that day – gravity struck.

Revathi slipped hard and fell hard, this time landing, so the few protruding centimeters of the hapless cucumber were now fully, firmly, and painfully pushed into her cunt!

She felt it hit her cervix, the pain unbearable, the sense of violation and joy – indescribable…. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! she screamed….. and then she blacked out….

….. to be continued

Copyright 2009, All Rights Reserved – Tales by Kamayogi

Photos belong to the sites they were originally featured in and are reproduced humbly and with respect. They will be withdrawn if the original copyright owners request it.

Vasanthi loved those warm Delhi afternoons, lying in the sun on their barsati (rooftop), soaking in the warmth under an all protective shawl.

All in all – she was satisfied. Life in GK II (Greater Kailash Part II, a neighborhood) was good and Delhi had come a long way since her college days at Lady Shri Ram. She had put on some weight after marriage but wasn’t as bad as Mrs. Bajaj next door – who like most punju (Punjabi) aunties had “exploded” after marriage. Vasanthi’s figure had remained nice and wholesome, although the gentle love handles and belly just accentuated the low hipster sarees she loved to wear. In fact Sharan, her husband often called it “belly jelly” and loved to bite it roughly and finger fuck her belly button as if it was something more. And worse yet he did it in front of Bahadur, the Nepali boy who had come as a household help.

Bahadur did pretty much everything around the house – cooked, cleaned, learned to operate the washing machine and make hot rotis for them during dinner. He was skinny and dark for a Nepali, and his head always remain crooked to one side. He spoke Hindi and she spoke enough to get the work out of him. And He worked hard and sent most of his money home. Once Vasanthi had caught him smoking a bidi inside the house and she had scolded him very badly but otherwise they got along fine.

Over the last few months she had grown more comfortable with him around the house, even stepping out after a shower, bra-less blouse and petticoat. She knew he looked at her, but what the heck, she liked it and she had been naughty like this for years. She was not the most popular “aunty” for nothing with all the neighborhood boys when they had stayed at Jabalpur – those little devils!

She guessed even Sharan secretly liked it, her showing off and being naughty in front of other men especially when he was not around – naughty, but not too naughty. He had once come home early and saw her in the kitchen, teaching Bahadur how to make ‘kootu’ – standing in her red blouse and white petticoat. He had looked at her, smiled, then looked at Bahadur, whose back was turned, and smiled back at her. They never spoke about it, but Vasanthi played along – it made him happy and it kept her constantly wet.

Last week she had played with Bahadur a little bit more, a clip on her blouse had broken, and she had fastened it rather loosely with a safety pin. And she saw his toothy gaze, as he could not take his eyes of the meaty swell of her breasts. That same afternoon, she had asked him to massage her stubby but cute legs, while sitting on an easy chair, her petticoat up to mid-thigh. Bahadur’s eyes were fixed on the love point, where her two plumpy thighs folded over the edge of the chair – he was hungry. And she wasn’t giving any. There were limits. Vasanthi often thought she was being kind, the poor guy was away from family and probably had no sex for months on end – she was just helping him along.

But nothing prepared her for what happened that Wednesday – just another quiet middle class Wednesday in South Delhi. Sharan had won a sales trophy the day before and proudly put it on the shelf – shaped like an smooth obelisk made of acrylic – all nine inches of it fixed on a stand. As he usually did when he was on a high, he had ravaged her breasts in the morning before leaving for work. By the time he left home her boobs looked bruised, her nipples were sore and felt all chewed up. All she needed was some calm, something soothing and looking around, her eyes fell on a jar of Coorgi honey she had bought from her last trip home. She reached over for the honey jar, dipped her fingers in it, and shoved them through the neck of her open blouse and rubbed it over her nipples, – what relief, warm and soothing. It was getting on 1 in the afternoon, and she had not bathed all day – she could not stand the thought of anything touching her boobs today – not even water. All she wanted to do was go upstairs to the barsati and lie in the sun.

Bahadur’ room was on the barasati, his window facing where she lay down. While he hung his towel over it, she often thought she saw him behind in shadows – , she fantasized – perhaps masturbating over her. See – he took the afternoons off when she slept and he usually spent it in his room. She usually lay the full weight of her sari-clad body on the side, facing his window, with a shawl covering her completely, face and all and went to sleep. Now and then, if it suited her fancy, she would let the shawl slip and have him take a peek.

Today was different though, she did not care. Lazily buttoning her blouse and straightening her petticoat, she skipped the sari and went upstairs, and lay down on the charpoy (cot). She wanted all the warmth she could get today, so in a fit of daring naughtiness, Vasanthi just covered her head and face with a shawl. Her breasts sloshed around loosely in her blouse, warm in the sun, her right breast all but spilling out as she lay on her left side. She could swear her nipple was sticking out of the blouse, she did not want to look, she did not care, she was tired. And she slept. She dreamt of life, love and above all more naughty things she would do. She smiled in her sleep.

It seemed like the sleep of a hundred years, when she was woken by a sharp stabbing pain – “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” – a stinging pain on her right exposed nipple and a buzzing sound. She yelped and opened her eyes and saw a wasp, the size of a bumble bee rise above, hover over her face and fly away (here is some research: http://tinyurl.com/8tj7oh). The pain was unbearable and her aureole started swelling fast, hurting even more as she tried to stuff it back in her blouse. She screamed loudly…”Bahadur”…”Bahadur”! He came running out of his room – “ji memsahib” (yes maam?) as she ran towards the stairs yelling, “andhar chalo” (run inside).

Bounding down the stairs, Vasanthi said in Hindi – “Dont tell saheb but I need your help!” Bahadur nodded as she barked – “Get some ice. Quick!” He went to the fridge and grabbing a few cubes in his hand, came running back. Vasanthi sat down on a chair at the dining table, calmly unbuttoned her blouse in front of Bahadur’s bulging eyes and let both breasts fall out on the table and said – “I have been stung by a bee”. By now the right aureole was swollen and turning blue. She said … “it bit me here, please rub ice on it, saying which she dropped her arms by her side leaving herself wide open to his care.

Needing no further encouragement, he moved a chair aside, and standing beside her, took an ice cube in his right hand, pinched the swollen area between his left thumb and forefinger and started to rub the ice cube on her blue-black aureole. Her left nipple looked on forlornly, unloved and ignored started to feel a chill… a few ice cubes had slid across the table and began melting under the warmth of her left breast. She could care less and continued to yelp in pain, as even after a few minutes of vigorous pummeling with an ice cube, the swelling on her right breast did not go away. And the sting at the base of her nipple seemed to work itself deeper.

Bahadur looked at her in sympathy and lust – all mixed up and said in Hindi – “Lock madam, lock. We rub iron lock on this and it go away.” Vasanthi grimaced in pain as Bahadur ran up the stairs, and returned with what looked like a massive iron lock from Nepal. By now the hard on in his pajamas was impossible for her to ignore – she just looked at the bulge in his pants and looked away. What if she…? Just then he took the massive iron lock, spat on her swollen nipple, grabbed it as before and roughly rubbed the flats side of the lock against the sting. Vasanthi moaned in pain and ecstasy – his hands felt warm, the lock felt cool, and the round iron rivets bumped and ground her tit mercilessly. She just closed her eyes and time passed, she moaned.

After what seemed an eternity of a few minutes, Bahadur stepped back to survey his handiwork admiringly – her mashed nipple sticking out proud and erect, her lovely dark aureole, now swollen beyond recognition. He approached it again, delicately this time, playing closely with the skin, and using his two thumbs, gave a sudden sharp jab of the fingernails – she screamed1 “Its sticking out”’ – he yelled and asked for a pin. She undid the safety pin in her blouse and gave it to him…. fearing the worst. Almost gently, he teased the sting out, laid it on his left palm and handed it to her – it looked like no more than a hair. And he smiled.

She yelled at Bahadur – “What are you looking at? Thank you but now go do your work!” With a hurt look he went back to the kitchen and busied himself. It was 4pm now – another two hours, Sharan would be home. But she wasnt done. She bathed for an hour, put on her best saree tucked low barely holding to her hips, wore a loose black blouse sans bra, and made herself look her best – makeup and all. Then went to the living room and yelled for Bahadur.

“Bring it here” she told Bahadur, pointing at Sharan’s award and said “put it there” gesturing at the sturdy coffee table in the center of the living room. Bahadur ran over and set it. “Hold it tightly!” she said and with that walked over, raised her sari and petticoat and lowered herself over the acrylic phallus, firmly held in place by the willing manservant. Bahadur tried closing his eyes as memsahib pummeled herself over the full nine inches of the acrylic shaft. Her buttocks smashed against his fist on the way down making a slapping sound. And on the way up – a sucking “fichick” with the vacuum forming in her vagina as the shaft receded. She did this silently, neither moaning nor groaning, her eyes closed, her lips ectstatic – a pool of her juices wetting his hand thoroughly. He was terrified and erect at the same time – it was getting to be too common a feeling in this house. Vasanthi stood up – exhausted, – ordered him to bring a rag and dry it. After wiping it down, he left it standing there, somewhat smudged, but standing tall. Vasanthi said “make me a cup of tea” then sat down exhausted and turned the TV on. Her cunt felt happy but sore – she would do it again soon, perhaps even have him fuck her with it.

Sharan arrived at 6… looking tired but happy. He was surprised that she had dressed up for him but his face fell when she look up at him and said – all sad eyed – “Sharanie, can u please take me to the doctor right away. I have been stung by some insect”. “Where dear, where” he asked. “Inside my blouse” came her sullen reply. “Right away – we’ll go to Dr. Gupta he is the best even though he is not nearby” saying which, he smiled. She understood – that old pervert, he had a clinic in his garage, a small wooden screen for privacy and two benches on the other side where patients sat. Sharanie was a very naughty boy – and he really did like this kind of stuff – someday she would ask him. For now… she was going to let Gupta have his way with her, with just a thin screen for privacy. She looked back at him and said “Ok”, with an innocent yet meaningful smile – as Sharan reached for his sales award, looked at it carefully and set it back on the shelf. He could swear he had put it on the shelf nice and shiny, but now – it looked somewhat dull and chafed – hmmmm! – must be Made in China! Everything nowadays was!

A few minutes later, as they were climbing down the stairs to the garage, Vasanthi said “you get the car ready, I forgot something”, turned, ran back up and rang the bell. As Bahadur opened the door, she walked in past him and nudged the door close, without locking it. Falling to her knees without warning, she grabbed his pajama strings and set his cock free – it was rising fast. Bahadur looked in fear at the door – what if sahib walked in now? She took one look at his ok dick – it too was crooked and leaned to the same side as his head – very funny! She bit the tip hard, swallowed it whole and gave him the blowjob of her life. For what seemed like long minutes, Vasanthi sucked hard on his tool, till he finally spewed salty warmth into her throat. She swilled it around her mouth, opened it wide, looked up at him so he could see his load in her and swallowed it whole. Planting a kiss on his penis, Vasanthi stood up. straightened her sari, reached for some chewing gum she kept in shelf near the door, popped a couple in her mouth. And without a word, headed down the stairs to the waiting car and hubby dear!

“I don’t feel comfortable with Dr. Gupta, Sharan – he seems like a perv” she said as she hot in the car, handing some chewing gum to Sharan. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there, watching his every move” Sharan said reassuringly, with the same twisted smile she had come to love so much. Sigh. At least she had been nice to Bahadur.

Suparna had always been high energy and smiling – never one to sit back, always ready to run an errand or do a chore for someone else. But the hard work of years keeping a job and family was finally taking its toll and for the last many months her back kept just growing worse. Sometimes it grew so bad she just felt like lying down anywhere.

Once the pain was so unbearable when riding an auto, she asked the driver to stop, and went and sat on a bench, at a road side tea stall… bad idea. The driver came sat next to her and had a cup of tea too … she went home and took a shower. Not because the driver smelled, but because between him and every other man at the chai stall, they had peeled the clothes off of her with their eyes. And she could still feel their hands running over her even after she had toweled herself dry. It did bother her a little bit that her pussy kept getting wet thinking about it, after all wasn’t she a good girl, who should feel disgusted. Anyway, she rolled some toilet tissue into a narrow plug, shoved it up her pussy, pulled up her panties and never thought much about it again.

Well – back to the back pain!She planned to go to that dowdy female doctor, Dr. (Mrs.) Sengupta, who she saw once every few years. See Suparna rarely fell ill, but when she did, Mrs. Sengupta set her right. The last time was when she had … well that is a different story.

Her office was in the older part of Malleswaram, and was set in a decaying, old, house, with cool mosaic floors, small grilled windows mounted with stained glass and old Usha ceiling fans that kept up a constant din. The ground floor was the waiting area and a short climb to the first floors and the doctor’s examination room and the lab were there. Since only the security guard was there downstairs, she climbed upstairs to see if anyone else was there.

She opened the examination room door. The room smelt of phenyl, it had blue paint on the walls, a tubelight, and a picture frame of a lake and a boat with a clock fixed in it.

And there, instead of Dr. (Mrs.) Sengpta, her husband, the original Dr. Sengupta, who worked at Manipal, was on duty. Oh what the heck, it was going to be a few minutes of getting a referral to a specialist or even some prescription, so she might as well see this guy and get it over with. “Hullo Doctor” she said in the nicest voice she could muster.

He looked up, and said “Come in, come in, please”. The doctor was short, pudgy, had beady eyes, and smelt of Brylcreem and Old Spice. He had curly hair and wore thick glasses and had a sly, shy smile, that seemed – weird. She felt safer that a nurse was also there. Shriveled, clad in a white sari with a blue broder, the nurse looked more like an ayah, than someone trained to do her job. Suparna could not help but wonder, who she preferred – a whole bunch of auto drivers visually stripping her, or this nauseating old woman and this weird doctor.

After he heard her history of back pain he leant back, steepled his fat fingers, closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again – “please go lie down, let me take a look”. She looked to where he gestured and there was the exam table, a high table, on sturdy legs, with green rexin covering it. A small metal step helped her climb up and lie down on it. She felt even better when he did not ask her to pull her kameez up. “Please to lie down and breathe normally” he commanded, she complied.

That would have been that – a nice simple once over and then off she would go, prescription in hand. Except he casually pushed his ample belly against her side as stood along the table. She could smell him and it did not smell great – Bryclreem, Old Spice and some ugly body odor.

Then with little fanfare he pressed one hand over the other and applied pressure with his forefingers, as he pressed on her hips, running all along the panty lines and the waist line. He then floated his hands above her to where they just bumped her left nipple and they came to rest on her collar bone. Suparana nearly cried in surprise but bit her tongue – her legs stiffened and her nipples slowly grew erect. That was one thing she knew she could never hide – her nipples stood up at the lightest touch, and pushed against the thickest bra or heaviest blouse. He made grunting sounds as he continued to examine her.

Almost as if on cue, the nurse, came up the other side and rested her gnarly hands right on her love pad… two fingers tucked ever so little, into the space between her thighs. And she smiled kindly. Suparna felt fear, excitement and disgust. But she dared not complain – what could she say – “stop playing with my body” – for heaven’s sake this was a doctor’s office after all – and she should stop imagining things.

“Please to turn around” Dr. Sengupta said. Suparana grateful to hide her erect nipples spun around and lay face down. “Loose please” he said and tugged at her salwar, (her pajamas). So she raised her butt a bit, shoved her hands under her belly and loosened the draw strings. Whereupon she felt two large, warm, soft, creepy paws slowly pull her salwar down, and her panties too, till half her butt was exposed. He then proceeded to examine her in the same manner he did before, hand over hand, with pressure from two forefingers – all the while asking “pain here?”. He raised her shirt, and check up and down her back. “Turn please” he said again and she rolled once more, and lay face up.

“Are you under stress?”…it was Dr. Sengupta. Suparna nodded her head as if startled. He said … “90 percent back pain due to stress, let me check your pulse. And with that, he plugged his stethescope in his ears, and placed the other end square on her left breast. The one with erect nipple. And then with that same smile, he firmly pushed down on the nipple till he nearly crushed her breast. Suparna yelped and stiffened her legs, the nurses fingers caught in between her thighs. The nurse smiled again and patted her right on the chest to stay calm. The doctor again looked at her curiously, his belly now mashing against her right breast, and turned to the nurse and said – “Rao ko ECG karne keliye bolo! inko robe dedo” He turned again to Suparna, and told her… “madam – can u please wear the robe so we can do the ECG for you”, at the same time laying his paw to rest on her left breast. Her nipple rose again, valiantly, in defiance.

His left arm reaching for a dirty examination gown that the nurse held out. It looked like that may have never been washed. As he was going to hand it to her his phone rang, it was his wife. He spoke to her for a full 3 minutes, all the while, his stubby, round hand lay, cupping Suparna’s breast, her nipple waiting to peek out between his fat fingers. This was crazy thought Suparna. Did he know what he was doing! She calmed herself – I am the one with the dirty mind…these doctors see so many people, he must not enjoy doing anything like this.

Suparna looked at a calendar on the wall – beautiful mountain scenery. It reminded her of her native place. And she desperately wanted to leave here, – the place was too creepy! served her right for coming to a small clinic to save some bucks instead of going to Manipal Hospital. It was almost as if she had willed it. He finished his call and raised his hand deftly – his fingers almost tweaking the nipple – but then did not. Then he stepped away and sat at his desk working on some papers, head down – pretending not to notice as she got up to change. Suparna again thought to herself – he is just doing his job. And my mind is the one that is twisted.

The ceiling fan kept whirring – making a slight clanking sound. Suparna stood up, her knees felt wobbly, she looked around for a place to change when the Dr. look up and said – “dont worry – you can change here. I am a doctor! I have seen everything” She hesitated. He then said – “keep your panty bra on, no need to remove”. Muttering a “thank you doctor”, she faced away from him and slowly loosened her salwar and dropped it to the floor. She bent down to pick it up – which is when she cursed the cheap panties she had bought in Meerut. They had ridden all the way up and even though she was facing away, the doctor could clearly see the lips of her vagina spilling out as her panty rode deep into her wedge. As she rose up she turned her neck around and she met his full hungry gaze. He looked away awkwardly and then he looked back down to his papers. She eased her pussy lips and buttocks back into the comfort of her panties where they belonged.

She was scared and wet at the same time – she wanted to run out – this was crazy! but her back hurt and maybe she was just being over sensitive. . , over sexed. She calmed down and took her kameez off. She bravely turned around, her tired breasts swinging along, safe in the bra. She raised her hands and started slipping the gown over her head – which is when the sleeves got stuck.

As she struggled, the nurse walked in the room and dashed over to help her. Her hands fell over Suparna seemingly to help with the gown, but instead of helping free the sleeve first, the nurse calmly unhooked Suparna’s bra, slowly pulling each cup off each breast and let it drop, leaving her “mommy” breasts, fully exposed. At this point Suparna was pissed and angry. She turned to Dr, Sengupta and told him – “please tell you nurse to manage her hands! – otherwise I will leave. Because of your office, I am so stressed, my back hurts even more!”. Worse yet, her erect nipples, happy, proud and free – were there for all to see – swaying as she furiously delivered her lines – telling the whole world they were having a good time!

Sengupta got upset. He stood up, walked around the table, came close to her and said “Madam –leave to go right now! I will call the next patient! They can see how you are – without decency! My staff helping close you dress and you shout at them! You have no shame! Do you like back pain? Eh?!”

She just muttered – “Sorry” under her breath.

Then he barked “Shanti! Help karo!” to the nurse. Shanti shoved a filthy, bangled hand up Suparna’s gown and into her sleeve, opened up the kink and pulled her hand out roughly, her gold bangles bruising Suparna’s breasts, almost as if in joy. The gown thankfully fell down and covered her till the knees. She said “thanks” to the nurse. She was convent educated and knew all these manners.

As if in grateful response, the nurse crouched on her knees, her hands reaching up the gown and started to pull Suparna’s panties down. “No…dont you touch me…” Suaprana screamed, standing in the room, with the panties stuck at her knees. The Dr. looked up, and went back to work. The nurse pulled back looking hurt. The door banged open and, most likely it was Rao, wheeled the ECG machine in, his eyes fixed on Suparna as she quickly raised the panties up, the gown rising with it as well. He caught the top her fuzz line and she caught him looking at it.

Dr. Sengupta said “please get ready” to Rao, “madam lie down please” to her, and left the room. Suparana lay down once more, feeling completely exposed. The bed was not long enough and she had to bend her knees, forcing her to hold the gown up against her lower thighs. She hated upskirt peeping toms, except when she wanted to put out. And if she would have her way – Rao wasn’t going to look up her dress, not unless he was nice and earned it J

Rao was thin and tall, starved and twisted. He smiled – it was a nice smile. She relaxed – maybe he was nice after all. Like everything else in this clinic, even the scissors he used seemed decaying. She sighed. He opened a roll of what looked like thick, industrial sello tape, and began cutting and laying badly mangled strips of tape on the edge of the bed. He also laid down a whole bunch of wires on her belly – as if they belonged there. Using a wooden spatula, he took what looked like gel from a jar, and daubed a lump of it on his left hand. He turned to the nurse and said “Shanti – ready?”

She sided up to the bed and what seemed like a skill born of practice, cheerfully lifted Suparna’s gown all the way up, just above the midriff – where the rise of her breasts began. She stood on left side, her hands firmly resting on Suparna’s breasts, the hem of the gown cutting like a tight band across them leaving the lower half of her ok tits, bulging out in protest. Under other circumstances, she would have enjoyed playing Rao with that kind of a tease. But not with Shanti’s hands folded around the the gown, her rough gnarled fingers abrading the smooth of her breasts.

With a practiced hand, Rao applied the cold gel to Suparna’s midriff, belly, legs, hands and inner thigh – she gasped. Then he placed the cold metal electrodes, over them, quickly covering each with a strip of heavy tape. His hands were warm. If she wanted, she could really tease him – but not today. She was shamed, scared and by now, dripping wet. Her panties were thick, but she was sure – they could see the damp. She sighed again. Why did she get into such situations – and then – why did she let them go on. Wasn’t she a good girl?

As if it was the most normal thing to do, Rao smoothly hooked the tips of his fingers of both hands, under her panty’s waist line, and ran his fingers along them out towards the hips, all the while lowering them down a full inch. He looked at her and said – “relax madam”. She was so wet by now, like a leaky old tap, she was so sure his hands were moist with her love – but he did not seem to care! Must be gay – Suparana thought.

He then dropped his hands down both her sides and pulled down the bottom of her panty, so her buttocks were half exposed. She was ready to sit up, put her clothes and storm out. But then it would not have made a difference, it was too late – they had had stroked her, felt her, squished her boobs and pulled her panties down to her knees. She had been sure they would not dare go further – but she was wrong.

Just then Rao stuck five more electrodes – one each on the curve of the hips, then on the waist right where the curve of her inner thighs began, Then she could swear, he brushed her pubic hair down and stuck a fifth in line, and few inches above her clitoris. Then with a flourish of both hands, he grabbed her panties and pull them back up hard – she yelped, as they cut into her pussy. She had been getting somewhat loose since she had the kids, so when the panty rode up, they left both lips spilling out like folds of fat on either side. Her vagina felt raw and bruised.

Rao turned his head and smiled at her and said “Relax madam!” He took the few remaining electrodes and stuck them each on the rise of her breasts and rubbed the tape firm against the jellied mass, pushing under the gown, as if to make sure he would get a good reading. Then Shanti rolled, down the gown, Rao turned the machine on and Dr. Sengupta walked back in to survey her wired body. He took his stethoscope and placed his hand through the collar onto her right breast, making full contact with her nipple. She moaned inside. At this point Suparna could not care less if he had shoved his fingers up her ass or pounded her cunt. She just wanted all this over.

They ran the test for a few minutes. Rao switched off the machine. Dr. Sengupta pulled his arm out and went over to look at the reading and returned to his desk. Rao looked at Shani and said… “please get madam dress”, turned around at her …flashed his white teeth and said “get well madam!”. And then he was gone.

Shanti went to work. As if in vengeance, and with filthy teeth bared in a smile, she used her claw like fingers to peel off the tape and remove each electrode in painful slow motion. Then she cleaned the gel off with a piece of gauze dripping with alcohol. At this point Suparna let go… “ouch”ing every time the tape was peeled off. It burned even more when the alcohol ran down her skin.

The pain shot through her all of a sudden. And she let out a loud yelp. Shanti tried removing the wire, stuck right below her belly button… it seemed like the tape had stuck to her pubic hair. Dr. Sengupta looked up at the commotion and yelled “Rao ko bulao!”. Rao arrived in a jiffy and ran up to where Shanti held up the stubborn wire held fast by a lone pubic hair. Rao took his scissors, merrily pushed her panty down a little and cut off what looked like a small clump of hairs. He held them up and the wire triumphantly, smiling at her and said “ok?!”

Not to be outdone, Shanti took her gauze and scrubbed the area with alcohol. Suparna pulled up her panties and was just about to relax when she felt the most excruciating burning in her vagina. Damn that Shanti! The alcohol has seeped down. She screamed “Aaaaash… “Doctor can you please do this for me! She has just put alcohol and it is on my private parts and it is burning!”.

“Get out!” yelled Sengupta at Shanti and she fled. He went and locked the door, looked at her kindly and said – “please lie down, let me look.” She lay down and in a moment he had pulled her panties down to her knees and then completely off, placing them on his table. He went to a shelf, took what looked like cream, and with his bare hands, slowly rubbed it into her vagina. Suparna did not know whether she wanted his hand fucking her or to thank him for the cooling gel or whether she wanted to yell at him and leave in a huff, with the remaining wires stuck to her. She held her calm and her fear – this man wasn’t going to rape her, after all they knew the family. She was safe.

The doctor then lay the panties on her pussy, raised her gown and proceed to remove the remaining electrodes. He tugged at the second electrode and stopped. The tape on the left breast was wrapped around the nipple. “It will hurt little” he said to her, “better you sit here” and he motioned to a steel stool by his desk. Suparna, covered her modesty with a panty, walked over and sat down, bare butt, on the cold steel stool. Sengupta raised the gown above her head and took it off completely, letting it fall to the floor. She was naked, except for the panty lying on her lap. And as if to reassure her – he smiled and said “don’t worry, door is locked!”. He took what looked like small forceps, and without warming, pressed the thumb and forefinger of his left hand and pulled her nipple hard till it looked like a stretched rubber band. Using the forceps, he skillfully teased the tape loose and let go of the nipple. It gratefully contracted to normal length.

All this while, he had stood behind and around her, his body pressed against hers. She could feel the bulge of his full penis – and it was a lot bigger than she thought a fat man would have had.

Then he went to work on the other breast. Having finished, he took the cooling gel and daubed and played with both nipples till they were erect. At that point he could have bent her over and fucked her silly for all she cared – her feelings were all so mixed up – fear, lust, hunger, cold, pain, sex, and disgust. All mixed up. But he did not – nice man.

She looked and managed a weak smile, saying “thanks doctor”. He looked back and said – “don’t worry, I will cure back pain! Put on dress, people will come.” So she stood up, proud and naked, set her panties on the shelf, hooked her bra up fast. Then she walked over to get her salwar and kameez and put them on quickly, feeling weak and wobbly in the knees. Slipping her sandals on, straightening her hair, she looked up at him shyly and asked – “doctor – what is the payment?”. “Don’t worry dear, come in 2 weeks, we will settle then”. Fat chance she was going to come back in two weeks, but then, she had that new sari with that low cut blouse, hmm…maybe she could torture Rao a bit next time. Maybe. “Ok doctor, I come in 2 weeks, bye bye” – saying which she stood up, unlocked the door and stepped out into the corridor.

Shanti sat on the floor, chewing paan and looked at her with her toothy smile, stained teeth and all. Suparna dipped into her purse and gave her a rupee coin and she did a salam. And then she stepped out into the warm summer day, hailed an auto, gratefully crept inside and sat down on the seat. The last two hours had seemed surreal and she was ready to take a nap all the way home. The driver started the auto and was just wheeling it out when she heard a voice, – “Madam, madam”. She stuck her head out of the auto, at the same time tapping the driver on the shoulder to stop.

It was Rao… he ran the last few feet and handed her the by now wet, dirty, soiled panty. And said – “your panty madam, you forgot panty”. Right there in front of the auto driver! What an idiot!

She swore she would not wear any panties next time she was coming here! Serves them right she thought!

Then she smiled. She tried so hard to be a good girl. Only god knew that.